


Bring Him Home

by nihlus



Category: Captain America (2011), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: A mix of angst and fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihlus/pseuds/nihlus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve wakes up after being frozen for 7 decades, he wants to find Peggy. When he does however, he doesn't find her in the way he wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Him Home

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend listening to the song Bring Him Home by the Piano Guys on Youtube, mainly because that's where I got the inspiration to write this mini-story. It's not a must of course, but it'll be nice to listen to while you read. (:

“How many would you like, sir?” He glances at the colours that he’s chosen, and takes a deep breath. 

“5 of each, thank you,” he gives a small smile to the florist, reaching for his wallet as she smiles in return, “and is it alright if there’s a little space left for a letter?” She nods and he waits, watching the flowers wrapped impeccably. A beautiful bow, and the florist cannot help but admire her own handiwork.

“She’s a very lucky girl,” the florist comments as Steve takes the bouquet into his hands, “I’m sure she’ll love them.” He says nothing, and gives a half-hearted smile, leaving the shop as calmly as he can. Once outside, he feels for the letter in his jacket. The thick envelope is there, and he takes a deep breath, making his way to the graveyard. 

It's strange, but the moment he steps out of the florist's, his steps feel heavy, and he slows down. As he walked through the crowd unnoticed, he notices them. The smiling couples, fingers interlocked, making their way down the street, in a state of bliss. Oblivious to the world's surroundings, there is nothing in this world that matters at that point in time, but them. He smiles for them, feeling a hint of sadness creep in as he celebrates their happiness for them. Crossing the gate that leads to the graves, he starts to make his own way to her spot.

He finds it, with ‘Margaret “Peggy” Carter’ carved into black marble with a handsome gold lettering. He finds it strangely apt, and sits down in front of her grave, clearing off the leaves and the dirt that had gathered. Before he can even lean over to trace her name, a dull ache settles in his chest. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, having felt it since he'd learned of her passing, but to have actual proof of her death staring him right in the face, coldly, as though accusing him of his tardiness, it's an entirely different matter. A whole new magnitude of heartache. Placing the bouquet down, he starts to place his fingers on M. The more his fingers move, the faster the ache grows. No longer a dull ache, but a sharp pain. He feels tears starting to blur his vision, but he doesn't make a move to stop himself. Why should he - Peggy Carter, was dead. To him, it was nothing more than the blink of an eye. For her...well. It was an eternity. As he comes to ‘Peggy’, his fingers start to shake, but continues to trace her name. Silent tears becoming small cries, and he swallows the urge to cry even harder as he reaches ‘Carter’. He looks at her name, letting the reality of her death sink in. Bringing his knees closer to his chest, he rests his chin on them, just looking, crying silently. His hand reaches for the letter, and takes it out. 

“I'm sorry. I'm not even sure i-if this is really the right time to say this," he talks to the silent grave, “but I think that if _we_ , were given that opportunity,” he unfolds the letter from its envelope, “we would’ve been great. Really great.”

“I know I'm 70 years too late, Peg. But I hope that this would suffice,” Steve adjusts his position to lean against her headstone, “When...I woke up, this was the first thing I wrote. I was about to send it to you; find your address in England, just find you. But it wouldn't have helped much.” Clearing his throat and taking another deep breath, he opens his eyes, and starts to read.

-

Dear Peggy;

There are just so many things to say, and, truth be told, I don’t think I can finish saying all that I want to within a single letter. I would like to meet you, Peggy. It’s clichéd, but I just don’t know if I can express what I’m feeling with words. Even though the last moments that I remember happened so fast, they're still clear in my head. I remember everything that happened, down to the last word.

A week from then, Saturday evening, 8pm at the Stork Club, you said. You were saying that I had to get there on the dot. "Don’t you dare be late”. I think it's fair to say that I stood you up - and I hope you forgive me.  
I remember your kiss. Trust me when I say that I was stunned, still _am_ , and I'm glad. I don’t really know how else to put it, just that for a while, I kind of forgot I was in a car and about to hijack an aircraft.

I also remember what I said before I landed. I’m not sure if you heard me, so I think I’ll just tell you now, what I said and did.

I’d get the band to play something slow, and that I’d hate to step on your toes. With you as my partner, I’d have then learned how to treat a lady. My compass was in front of me - the one with your picture in it. And I just...looked at you. 

‘I love you, Peggy Carter.’

I don't know if you heard what I said, but even if you didn't, I think you knew.

I still have the compass with me now. It’s sitting on my desk as I write this. Your picture’s in here, and it’s still intact. I wanted to keep the fact that I had your picture with me a secret, at least until I could ask you for a dance myself.

We would’ve gotten the band to play something slow, and you’d teach me how to dance. I’d take your hand, and you’d teach me patiently, slowly. I’d step on your toes once or twice, and you’d just laugh it off, continuing the dance. By the end of the night, I’d know how to treat a lady like you. I’d walk you home, and show you the compass as we walked. You’d laugh and tease me, but I think you would’ve liked it. Before you went home to sleep, I’d stop you. Tell you that I’d found the right partner, and give you a kiss goodnight.  
I miss you, Peggy, and I love you. I’m not sure where you are now, but wherever you are, I hope you’re safe, and that you’re happy. It’s been 70 years, but just know that I love you, and I miss you, very, very much. 

Always yours,

Steve.

-

"I'm so sorry, Peg." He folds the letter again, fingers shaking as he places it back into the envelope. Taking a deep breath, he lets his head rest on his knees, closing his eyes. He can’t help but wonder if that was enough. That she was there with him, behind him, listening as he read out the letter. Smiling, giving him the warm hug that he needed. He pulls the red, white and lavender bouquet towards him, and he hopes she understands what he’s trying to say. 

As he seals the envelope, he feels a breeze, drying his eyes for him. He smiles and places the envelope among the roses, and places a hand on the cold marble. He kisses the headstone, and, feeling the unnatural warmth, knows that she understands. 

“Goodnight, Peg. I still owe you a dance - and we'll dance when we meet again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Red roses have the symbolism of sincere love, while white can mean that you're missing someone, but in weddings they do symbolize a happy love. Lavender can mean love at first sight. (:
> 
> 15 roses in total though, means "I am truly sorry; forgive me".
> 
> Any reviews and comments will be very, very welcome!
> 
> \- flawedconcerto


End file.
